Vikki

Max is not going to let this go. I'm out of options and I'm hating myself more and more because with every step, I'm asking for his help.

I've yet to do anything to justify my enormous price tag and which hasn't resulted in Max bailing me out. But I can't go on like this.

I take a deep breath.

"My landlord. I owe him rent. I'm pretty sure he's currently setting fire to everything I own right now," I say, the words sticking in my throat.

"He said that?" Max's voice is terrifyingly even.

"He's implied it in the past. I wouldn't put anything past Lord Bisleh."

Max releases me in order to dip into his inside pocket, bringing out his phone.

"Lord Bisleh?" he queries, thumbing at the screen.

"Yes. Do you know him?" I ask dumbly.

"No. I have no interest in any sort of human aristocracy. Unless one presents as a problem to me."

He continues to tap at his phone. Stops and waits, then he presses his thumb on the screen one last time.

"I don't think you'll have any further problems with Lord Bisleh," Max says, looking over the top of my head with narrowed eyes. "And your belongings are secure."

"Oh, thank you!" I gush, going up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, brushing past his tusks as I do.

Max glares at me for a second and I back off hastily.

"Shall we get on?" he says, looking over at the shop assistants. "I want to see if they can make a lady of you."

He turns and sits himself back down on the alarmingly small sofa, troll spreading as if he's attempting to win a Guinness record.

"I'm ready." Max puffs on his cigar, looking every inch a respectable business troll and extremely handsome to boot.

He wants a show, and to my immense surprise, I want to give him one.

This is going to be fun!

The next few hours pass in a whirlwind of outfits. The head personal shopper, Rachel, is initially fearful of Max, but with my desire to really enjoy myself, and my insistence he gets to see each and every outfit, slowly their concerns disappear.

We end up giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls, especially as it becomes abundantly clear that Max, while attempting to keep his cool, is struggling. Particularly with anything low cut.

I take to the stage in the main salon time and again, twirling as if my life depends on it. Keeping my distance so he can look but not touch. Max watches, his gorgeous blue eyes taking everything in. Cigar in one hand, crystal glass with amber liquid in the other. Doing his level best to maintain a strict exterior.

After a while, lunch is brought in and he insists we all stop, including the assistants, to eat before waving us on with a geniality I've not seen in him before.

Another cigar is lit, and he resumes his place on the couch as I'm led away into the second salon and out of sight.

The pile of outfits to keep is currently bigger than the pile of outfits rejected. I've done my best not to look at the price tags, but so far the amount of clothing which I'm keeping is nearly the same amount of money I lost when my advisor ran off with my money.

"Okay," Rachel says to me. "We want you to try this on. It'll be for the Monster Mansion House ball, but it'll need some alterations." She gives me a smile. "Also, if you like it, we thought you might want to keep it a secret from Mr. Horenson until the big day."

"You make it sound like a wedding…" I shut up immediately when I see the dress her two assistants, Sara and Paula, are holding up, my hand flying to my mouth. "Holy shit, that is beautiful."

The dress is a riot of sparkles and swishable silk, with corset bodice and floofy, sequin studded fishtail train, all in a gorgeous dove grey color.

"Shhhh!" Rachel hisses at me, with a not so subtle look towards the outer salon. "Quick, let's get you into this, work out the measurements, and find you something else which will keep your beau happy for a while."

I very nearly choke into my hand when she calls Max my beau. It's so incredibly old fashioned and hilarious. But then, I'm supposed to be playing a part.

"I really want to tease him a bit. Do you have an outfit that you think will do that?" I ask conspiratorially as Sara and Paula truss me up in the dress, mark out what needs changing with vicious looking pins, then whip it away.

"First things first, Vikki." Rachel eyes me. "I'm going to get you our in-house makeup and hair artist, and you need some decent underwear, stat. If you're going all out to tease Mr. Horenson, then Harridges is at your service."